The Wrong Suitcase
by LaPaige
Summary: Hey, Mitchie, it’s been a while. Four months, two weeks and four days as of the day I’m writing this, actually. ShaneMitchie.


**After reading a one-shot by AHighterOctave she gave me a link to a LiveJournal that, every day, posts prompts (both word and pictures) for one-shots (and maybe chapter fic's to, I guess). I've been planning on writing this prompt that for a long time. So, I hope you enjoy it. (:**

Dedicated to howlsatthemoon because her writing is amazing, and having a one-shot dedicated to her was on her wish list. I hope I made one of those wishes come true.

**Prompt:**

_You come home from a trip and realize you have the wrong suitcase._

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I tugged the suitcase up the stairs to my apartment, groaning as it got caught on yet another step. It was at times like these when I cursed myself for getting an apartment on the seventh floor of a building. What had possessed me (other than the fact that it was the only free room that didn't smell of pee and/or old people) to do so? I sighed, finally reaching the familiar door to my apartment.

It had been three weeks of vacation bliss – no Ms. (no wonder her husband divorced her) Samuels across the hall knocking on my door every morning and moaning about the smell of coffee (like she can smell it anyway) and the sound of cats fighting in the night (how am I meant to stop this? I mean, really?). No letter's asking where my rent is (I do pay it every month on time, but apparently someone else in the building has been stealing my money because it never arrives). Just sunshine and sunbathing in Spain. And now I was back home to my wonderful (note the sarcasm) apartment in New York.

I fished the key out of my back jean pocket, glad I'd put it there before the flight to make sure I didn't have to dig for it in my suitcase, and entered. I breathed in the familiar scent and smiled. I didn't love the apartment, but I didn't mind it and it was still nice to be home.

I pulled the suitcase forward, kicking the door shut and heading towards the couch. I sat down, leaning back and closing my eyes for a few seconds, savoring the moment. It didn't last long because I knew that I had to unpack. If I didn't do it now I never would. I pulled the suitcase towards me, unzipping it. A piece of paper fell out and I frowned, not recognizing the envelope. I hadn't put it in there, I was certain. I picked it up, turning it over. My breath hitched in my throat when I saw the handwriting on the back. I _knew_ that writing. It was somewhere between messy and clear to read and slated slightly to the left. _Shane._ The envelope was clearly addressed to me (if my name in bold was any indication to go by). I was caught between ripping it over to see the contents or throwing it out the window and never seeing it again. My hands shook slightly as I slowly opened it. I tipped it upside down, not sure what to expect. A single piece of paper fell out.

I frowned, setting the envelope down and unfolding the paper. I saw Shane's handwriting covering about a sixth of the page. I took a deep breath and started to read.

_Hey, Mitchie. _

_I know this is unexpected. In fact, I don't know if you're even reading this. It's been a while. Four months, two weeks and four days as of the day I'm writing this, actually. I miss you Mitch. So much. And I know I never would have written anything like this before but you changed me. I hope that maybe this (all of this) will make you change your mind._

_It took a long time to sort everything out. I didn't know you were going on holiday, but Caitlyn mentioned it and it got my thinking. I have your real suitcase, and I'll make sure you get it tomorrow (it's the 22__nd__ of May, right? Caitlyn said that was the day you got back), so stop panicking. _

_I guess the rest is self explanatory. Please look in the suitcase._

_I love you Mitchie._

Shane.

I stared at the letter, confused. I went back and read it at least three times before I finally put it down and turned towards the suitcase. I flipped the lid open and gasped when I saw the contents. Letters, photos, key rings, DVDs, CDs, posters, books and tons of other items all piled into the one suitcase. My mind flickered to Shane before I grabbed the first item – a CD. I laughed at the face of Taylor Swift staring back at me. I knew this wasn't my original copy – Shane must have bought it especially to put it in the suitcase. He had always hated Taylor's singing but he knew I loved it. I always made him listen to his displeasure. I put the CD back down and picked up another item – a DVD. I laughed once more, seeing the faces of none other than David Krumholtz and Rob Morrow from Numb3rs. Before the break up Shane and I sat down for hours watching episode after episode of the TV show. We'd both loved it.

I sorted through all the items. It must have taken me hours and I cried and laughed so many times I'd lost count. Shane must have spend days organizing all this.

There was the strawberry lip gloss I always used to wear that Shane always said he liked the taste of, the recipe for chocolate muffins I once gave him that he never used, at least six letters from me that I sent him over the course of our three year relationship, a few key rings of our days at theme parks, at least thirty photos of us together and with our friends and so many more objects that bought back hundreds of memories.

By the time I'd finished it was three of four hours later. I piled everything back in the suitcase, taking extra care with a lot of the objects. I sat on the coach afterwards, swimming in memories I'd pushed away. It had been, like Shane had said in his letter, over four months. We'd broken up because of the strain. Connect Three was growing in popularity and I'd finished my musical career after two years because I'd ended up wanted other things. We had tried to keep up our friendship but after a few months we just stopped contact. We had both tried, we really had, but it just hadn't worked out.

I smiled, realizing just how much he'd done for me with the suitcase. I looked around, locating my home phone and grabbing for it. I dialed the familiar number that I hadn't typed in for a long time and let the smile creep over my face. I put the phone to my ear. I counted five rings, my heart increasing with each one.

"Hello?" I heard him mumble on the other end.

"Shane?" I whispered into the phone, unsure where he was or if I was interrupting anything. I heard a muffled sound on the other end and smiled softly. It had been a long time.

I heard the sound of a door shutting and wondered if he'd been in a meeting. I felt guilty then. Maybe I should have just waited. "Mitchie?" I heard the confused reply and I let out the breath I didn't know I'd been holding. There was so much I wanted to say, so much I needed to tell him, but I knew it wasn't the right moment.

"Shane," I repeated, louder this time. "I think I got the wrong suitcase."

**---**

**I know you probably all hated that ending but I think it kinda fits. (: Tell me what you think!**


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